Page 3 of Spotlight
Maybe I am the irrational one. My current frustration makes it hard for me to think straight. The budget rule was my idea. And yes, it was set with good intentions, but I can’t deny I’ve been extra grateful for it so that Jake doesn’t spend a lot more than I can. I want Greer to have everything her heart wants, but I also want to leave room for her to use her imagination and creativity.
The sigh I let out takes all the remaining energy I have left and blows it right over the ledge of the building. This is why I can’t escape for a night or weekend like a typical single twenty-something. The responsibilities are always there, and I’m holding it together with duct tape and safety pins.
“Whatever. You can tell her when you talk on Sunday, but do not mention June unless you are certain you can make it work.”
There’s a pause that makes my hackles rise.
“I was hoping you could tell her. I don’t want to ruin our weekly call. If you give her the news tomorrow, then she’ll have a day to adjust to the idea.”
He’s making me the bad guy, but if I’m honest, I want to be the one to tell her. That way, I can hold her while she cries and remind her how much we love her. And I don’t want to ruin their Sunday afternoon video chat any more than he does. It’s the one day of the week she has his attention, and I know how much she looks forward to it. Every kid deserves time with their parents. Even if I want to punch said parent in the nose. I can resent his decision and still want to protect Greer from it as much as possible.
“Fine.” I exhale and close my eyes, turning away from the city and facing the room.
As Jake says his goodbyes, making more promises that I’m uncertain he’ll keep, I focus on the city noises that filter up to the rooftop. The glide of tires over the road below and the squeal of brakes rolling to a stop. A horn honks in the distance. A slight thump of the bass from another hotel room and the occasional laughter or loud voices.
After I end the call, I cradle my phone in both hands and linger a moment longer, pushing away the irritation of my call with Jake. He doesn’t get to ruin my last night in New York and Greer’s birthday.
Sure, my plans for the rest of the night are getting ready for bed and sleeping, but now I’m likely going to be thinking of him while I do both activities. The number of hate dreams I’ve had about Jake is truly impressive.
“Ten more seconds,” I speak the words out loud as I soak in just a few more moments of the city sounds.
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.” I pause. “Two and a half?—”
A deep chuckle rumbles from the shadows, and I suck in a startled breath.
“Hello?” I ask cautiously as I sidestep closer to the door leading back inside. I swear to God if I get murdered up here, I’ll be so pissed.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I finally see him, or part of him. He stands on the balcony of the room next door, cast in shadows. He doesn’t move, but I still feel a prick of unease at being out here with a stranger.
“Have you been out here the entire time?” I ask, glancing at the door again, just in case I need to make a run for it. I’m fairly certain I could outrun him in the time it would take for him to leap over the balcony wall.
“If you’re asking if I heard your conversation, then yes, but only because interrupting seemed rude.”
“And eavesdropping isn’t?” I ask, quirking a brow. I probably shouldn’t provoke this strange guy, but I can’t seem to help it. I’m still prickly from talking to Jake.
“I was here first, so technically you were eavesdropping on me.”
“You weren’t talking,” I point out.
“Actually, I was having a pretty nice conversation with myself until you showed up.”
I huff a small laugh. There’s a playfulness in his words and a tone that loosens some of the anxious energy I’ve been holding.
His voice softens as he adds, “Sorry. I should have gone inside or said something, but I like it out here and you seem to be having as shitty of a night as I am. Plus, I’m a gentleman. I couldn’t just leave you out here all alone.”
It’s an oddly sweet confession from a complete stranger.
“Who’s Jake?” he asks. “Boyfriend? Husband? Dad?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Doesn’t matter, anyway. He sounded like a jerk.”
I open my mouth to defend Jake, because that’s what I usually do, but this mystery man doesn’t give me a chance.
“If he’s not going to make it this weekend, I am happy to take his place.”
“What?”
